


(and when i think) of the starlit sky

by orphan_account



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Gen, Harry Potter Universe, M/M, Or a double agent for said rebellion organization, hwa is a spy, joong runs a rebellion movement, ravenclaw!hwa & gryffindor!joong, this is also a Giant Universe but When Will I Write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 17:17:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18428573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “You’re going to take it?” Hongjoong sounds scandalized at the very thought, his hands clenching into fists in his lap and his expression becoming more and more incredulous as the time passes.“I’m not,” Seonghwa says. He’s thought of this a lot. “I’m going to kill myself. Or have one of you kill me. I don’t know yet.”





	(and when i think) of the starlit sky

 

**— it’s cold outside: —**

 

Seonghwa rather likes Hongjoong’s tiny apartment with the creaky floors.

 

It’s a lot calmer than the manor, for obvious reasons. He could easily step into the kitchen in Hongjoong’s apartment without finding a muggle floating over the dining table and feeling his heart sink in his chest like it’s made of lead at the blood dripping from their sliced neck. There’s significantly less screaming involved too. In the manor, the house elves cried at night, the deatheaters cheered, and the muggles begged for their lives in the dungeons. At Hongjoong’s, it was just video game noises, the owl hooting occasionally, and his stupid, silly laugh.

 

It’s tiny, as if all of Hongjoong’s muggle hobbies had been shoved into a single place. There’s a shelf stacked with comic books Hongjoong says he’s owned since he was five, a desk overflowing with recording equipment that Seonghwa was too un-muggle to remember, a piano crammed into the corner with multiple guitars, and several shelves holding DVDs and video games. It’s cluttered and messy but he seems to remember exactly where everything is.

 

“You should start leaving me notes instead of showing up in here whenever you get mildly bored,” Hongjoong says, when he finally gets over his weird-staring-at-Seonghwa thing he usually does whenever Seonghwa comes around. When Seonghwa turns, he’s standing at the door frame, arms crossed and head cocked to the side.

 

He’s wearing the dark blue sweater he’d robbed from Yunho again. It reminds Seonghwa of the house tower and makes his heart ache slightly.

 

“I wasn’t mildly bored,” Seonghwa tells him, shrugging off the coat he’s wearing over his robes and placing it neatly on Hongjoong’s table. “I was _incredibly_ bored, and I had news. So I came here. Like you told me to.”

 

The corner of Hongjoong’s lips quirk up. “Being a deatheater isn’t entertaining enough for you? My, my, it’s almost as if you _like_ disappointing your parents.”

 

That hits too close to home. He knows for a fact that Hongjoong said it with the intention of prodding at the one thing that had always wounded him, and that’s the only reason he doesn’t say anything.

 

“Do you want to hear it or do I take it up to Mark instead?” He asks instead, shifting from one leg to another. It hurts where he’d been chained to the dungeons the other night because he’d allowed a muggle to escape, but he’d rather not impose on Hongjoong’s nice, warm apartment with his deatheater filth. He doesn’t like Hongjoong, and he knows that Hongjoong doesn’t like him either, but there’s no way he’s going to give him another reason to not trust him.

 

“Sit down first,” Hongjoong tells him, pointing at the fluffy armchair with his wand. He always has his wand in his hand, as if he’s worried that something will jump up at him. “You look like shit.”

 

_A week of torture does that to anyone._

 

“They’re looking for someone to take over the coven.” He pointedly ignores the last part because he doesn’t want to talk to Hongjoong about how he’d nearly died because he’d allowed multiple muggles to escape the dungeons. “Someone young enough to stay in power for a while.”

 

Hongjoong pauses. His hands seem to still their usual tapping. “ _You’re_ the youngest of the coven.”

 

“I am.” It’s kept him up for nights, the way the elder deatheaters had leered at him when the Dark Lord had mentioned a young leader. The greed for power in his parents’ eyes had hurt — they saw him as a way to extend their power and their influence in the coven. “My parents are really pushing me to the epicenter of this bullshit, I suppose.”

 

“You’re going to _take_ it?” Hongjoong sounds scandalized at the very thought, his hands clenching into fists in his lap and his expression becoming more and more incredulous as the time passes.

 

“I’m not,” Seonghwa says. He’s thought of this a lot. “I’m going to kill myself. Or have one of you kill me. I don’t know yet.”

 

In a split second, it feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room. It’s deathly quiet all of a sudden, like the words had drowned all the other noise in the room. The fan doesn’t creak anymore. The floorboards are still.

 

It’s the sound of Hongjoong’s voice that brings the white noise back.

 

“You can’t just say things like that,” he says, and Seonghwa finally plucks up enough courage to meet his eyes. His expression is unreadable, as always, but there’s something in his eyes that give away the facade. It’s like he’s a perfect, sleek robe and the look in his eyes is a frayed thread that won’t stay inside.

 

“You’re right,” Seonghwa’s lips curl up unintentionally, bitter and mocking. “I can’t ask one of you to kill me. I’ll do it myself.”

 

“Are you crazy? There’s no way I’m letting you do that.” The air feels stifling, cold and heavy and dark all at once, and it seems to dull the yellow beanbags with the books stacked on top of them in the corner of Hongjoong’s living room.

 

“There’s no other way,” Seonghwa tells him. Hongjoong’s knuckles are turning white around the wand, his eyes dangerously dark. “I could take up the offer and lead the coven, but if they ever trace me back to you, they’ll overthrow me and kill you. And then they’ll kill me, as the ultimate sacrifice to the Dark Lord.” The words taste like crap, but he’s gotten used to saying them out loud. He smiles, bitter and cold, and adds, “I die regardless of whatever happens, Hongjoong-ah, and to be honest, I’d rather do it on my own terms than let it be by them.”

 

There’s a pause.

 

“You asked me if I would die for the rebellion.” Seonghwa says again, when it becomes apparent that Hongjoong is still processing it. “And I’m telling you today that I will.”

 

Hongjoong bristles. He seems antsy, like he wants to wrestle out of his own skin. “I don’t want you to die for the rebellion, Seonghwa. You can’t throw yourself in jeopardy because you —”

 

“This isn’t a discussion, Hongjoong-ah,” Seonghwa doesn’t want to hear the words that’ll give him false hope, especially not if they’re coming from Hongjoong. “I’m going to do it. I just thought I’d let you know.”

 

It’s cold outside. The windows are fogged up and Seonghwa can see the city lights blinking. He’s always wanted to walk around Muggle Seoul with no worries in the world.

 

“You’ve got nerve thinking I won’t do everything in my power to stop this from happening,” Hongjoong says, and his eyes are burning again. Or maybe it’s the light from his sun lamp, he really can’t tell. “I wasn’t lying when I said I wouldn’t let you do this.”

 

Seonghwa hums. “That’s up to you.” He gets up, brushing the hair from his eyes and grabbing his coat. Hongjoong is watching him like he’s completely different from the person he’d been when he came in. “I’m going now. See you at the station next week.”

 

The spot on the side of his hand where he feels Hongjoong’s hand brush against his, almost like he wanted to hold him back, burns like the light of a thousand candle flames when he apparates back to the manor.

 

There’s a muggle screaming in the dungeon again.

**— i just want to go home. —**


End file.
